Beneath Dark Shadows
by nightdancer342
Summary: Willie Loomis, slave to the vampire, Barnabas Collins, becomes a victim of the old saying "the past comes back to haunt you".


**Author Note: This chapter has been edited to fit the future plot. Dark Shadows characters do not belong to me. All other characters are original and belong to me.**

**Updated: 12-14-08**

It's said that it's the ironies in life that make life interesting. Willie Loomis couldn't agree more, as he had experienced quite a few 'ironies' that definitely made his life 'interesting'.

For instance: The last moments of freedom for Willie Loomis were coincidentally the last moments of incarceration for Barnabas Collins. He doubted that anyone would be able to top his irony, as it was surely the most interesting thing that had ever happened to him in his life, though it was like the beginning of a life that was truly unremarkable.

Each day seemed to be a repeat of the previous. Willie awakened shortly before dawn, yawning and getting dressed as he half-heartedly went downstairs to get instruction from Barnabas who would then go down to the basement to retire to his coffin. Willie would spend the day cleaning the Old House, or leaving for errands- either to buy more candles or to sell jewelry to the pawn shop. Then he would return, to work on a room, have a quick lunch. Barnabas would rise as soon as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon to ask about the days events. Willie would then let Doctor Hoffman in, and then he would be sent away, no longer needed or wanted in the company of others.

It was a rather lonely existence. It seemed like Willie used to have friends, didn't he? Maybe not very loyal ones (or trust-worthy for that matter) but friends none-the-less. Someone to talk to, to relate to, just to have a laugh over a drink or maybe more … He never felt so overlooked and under-appreciated in his life as he did now. Maybe he was just destined to be a vampire's slave. It nearly seemed as much. He hadn't gotten a very good start in life in the first place. He never knew his father and his mother had claimed that Willie was just a mistake anyway, an accident. Never meant to be. That was definitely a good way to describe Willie Loomis, he thought.

Willie sighed as he pushed the covers off of him and sat up in his bed. It wasn't long after midnight and troubling dreams and anxieties that he couldn't quite exactly point out the source pestered him in the silence, making his stomach feel in knots. He needed something to preoccupy his mind with, other than his troublesome thoughts and worries.

Willie fumbled in the dark for the matches on the side table to light the candle near his bed. At last finding them, He struck one and it illuminated the room, the flame flickering eerie shadows against the wall as he lit the candle and blew out the match. Willie sighed, standing up to pace back and forth in the small area, considering going downstairs. Going downstairs however, would mean having to see Barnabas; which could result in three possible options- either Barnabas would get irritated with him and send him away, or Barnabas would delight in teasing him with cruel ideas (As it seemed to be a hobby of the vampire- the more miserable Willie became the better.) Or Barnabas might have other plans in mind for him… Willie shuddered. No, it was definitely better to stay up here in his small dark room, alone from the torment of his captor. It was somehow comforting to think that this place was his own, and that he would be able to escape here whenever there was no other place for him. It was a rather pitiful thought, much like an old dog that desired the matty bed in the garage in the cold of winter.

Willie smirked as memories returned to him of his time in Brazil, as he lifted up a dusty old magazine he had bought many months ago that had been lying forgotten on the desk in his room, suddenly something fluttered out of its pages, floating to the floor and gently landing at his feet. Willie bent down to retrieve it and held it closer to the light… It was an old photograph that had somehow been jammed into the pages of the magazine. It had been taken probably around ten years ago. Willie was 15 or 16 in the picture, and he stood with a rare smile standing on a dock next to a familiar figure… Jason McGuire. His old friend and somewhat of a fatherly figure for him was standing with his large hand clasping Willie's shoulder much like Willie always supposed a proud parent would look on graduation day with their kid in a photograph together. Willie slumped down onto his bed, his eyes set on the picture. Studying it with a sad frown. The young spirited boy in the photograph was almost unrecognizable. This boy seemed to exude confidence and seemed self-assured and maybe a bit arrogant- much like someone who seemed to think themselves attractive. His eyes were bright, He seemed at ease, innocent, comfortable and happy- far from what Willie was anymore.

The longer Willie stared at the picture, he realized: The boy in the photograph was dead.

**NEW YORK 1960**

'BEEEP!' The blur of the taxi flew past him. "Damn-blast-" Jason leaped out of the way from the speeding taxi cab that blared it's horn as it sped past, barely swerving to miss him as he crossed the New York streets. His stay in New York was nothing that the colorful flyers had claimed; "Filled with wonder and magic! The city that never sleeps!" As far as Jason was concerned, New York was one of the most stressful, irksome, over-populated, exhausting cities he had ever been to. One couldn't even use the crosswalk at a fast pace without nearly getting run over.

But it wasn't as if he were vacationing here anyway, he was there purely for trading business.

Recently he had lost track of his traveling friend and partner Paul Stoddard who usually dealt with this type of thing, He was last seen in Hong Kong getting his share into the 'resident sterling' business- (disappearing once the police started hanging around) and since then, Jason had been managing his boat alone. It was nearly November by the time he had reached New York with several stops along the way of course. He couldn't wait till his trading deal had gone through and he could get his merchandise, so that he would be able to leave the hellish zoo called Manhattan.

Jason continued down the dark urban streets of New York, past some town houses before getting into a busier part of town and slipping into a late-night diner to get a cup of coffee. Jason was greeted with a strong smell of fresh bacon as he grabbed a Newspaper that was on the stand while he waited sliding onto the bar stool style seat. The waitress was busy talking to one of the other customers down the bar about some armed robbery down the road that she had witnessed the other night. He folded the newspaper and rolled it so he could put it in his small bag that he was carrying with him (he had purchased a few personal items at the drug store he had stopped at). Jason picked up the menu, browsing the options. He didn't feel much like breakfast, or a hamburger which seemed to be their specialties.

Several more minutes passed before the gabby waitress ended her conversation and swished over to Jason, sitting down next to him casually. "Hiya Darlin, what can I get you tonight?" The waitress asked with a heavy accent, chomping on some chewing gum as she swept her hand through her frizzy hair that was pulled back into a loose pony-tail, looking at Jason expectantly.

"Eh," Jason consulted the menu, scanning over his options again. "I think I'll just take a cup of coffee and…a corn beef sandwich…Yes, That sounds good." Jason said giving her a large grin. "Alright sweetheart, I'll get it right out to you." She replied, gathering the menu and whisking away. Jason watched as she disappeared around the counter and called to the lazy looking cook who was leaning against the stove.

"So…There was a robbery, you say?" Jason asked with raised eyebrows, before smiling apologetically. "I couldn't help overhearing." The waitress nodded, leaning over the counter. "Yeah. There was about four young kids that did it. Couldn't-a-been more than sixteen years old, I saw 'em." She replied, snapping her gum. "Oh. I see. That's rather a shame that such young kids would get into that type of thing." Jason said pursing his lips innocently, as if he hadn't ever done anything illicit in his life. "Yeah, it is. They got no future ahead of 'em…goin' down that road." She said, turning around and pouring a cup of the freshly brewed coffee. "No, no…I daresay they haven't…" Jason trailed off. The waitress turned around, setting the mug in front of Jason. "Where are you from?" She asked with a yellow grin. "The beautiful green lands of Ireland!" Jason replied gaily, taking a sip of the hot coffee. "Oh, is that so?" The waitress laughed weezily from too much cigarette smoke and air pollution, "I'm from the cracked streets of New Jersey." She replied smartly with a smirk. "Well, I can't rival that description!" Jason said with a chuckle, slamming down his mug with appreciation for her joke.

"One corn beef sandwich!" The short order cook hollered out. The good natured waitress pushed herself up, grabbing the plate and set it down in front of Jason. "Thank you very much!" Jason said, looking at the appetizing food. It tasted wonderful, from lack of finding very many restaurants in the part of town he was lost in when he had gotten on the wrong subway and ended up in an unfamiliar area with numbers for street names. He was lost for almost thirty minutes before a scruffy looking chap on the street nicely led him to the correct direction, and held out his hand for a tip afterward.

Jason finished his food, downing the rest of the coffee before he slammed down money on the counter and slid off the bar stool onto his feet. "Good night now." Jason waved to the waitress, walking toward the exit to leave the warmth of the diner to go back into the cold streets.

Outside, the Irish man pulled his coat closer to him, readjusting his bag before beginning to head down the fairly abandoned street ahead of him, where he encountered an occasional shady passer-by; All of the people he passed kept their head low and walked at a quick stride with their hands in their pockets, disappearing into the darkness.

Jason turned down the street, passing a wall he recognized; It was decorated with graffiti that he had seen earlier before he had gotten hopelessly lost.

As he walked along the street heading to his hotel; Some lurking kids in the dark alley ways made Jason quicken his pace; After all, he didn't need to be held up and robbed for what little cash he had left. He was surprised anyone would be able to afford to live in this city with all of the hidden fees that came with just being there.

Jason found his hotel, and gratefully he went inside, giving a genial grin to the man working behind the desk. "Cold night!" Jason commented before getting on the elevator that brought him to the third floor, where he could finally relax in his own room. He collapsed on his queen sized bed, in his three room suite. "New York, The city that never sleeps" would forever remain in his mind as the most inappropriately named tagline ever known to him; As he was so exhausted from one day out on the town that he had the best sleep that he had gotten in a while.

Despite the fact he slept so well, Jason was hardly refreshed in the morning. The congested air had given him a sinus headache. He rubbed his dry eyes, feeling somewhat irritated as he walked around the room, and picked up the phone to call his dealer that was stationed in Brooklyn. "Hello operator, yes…Would you connect me to the Gnarly Road bar, Thank you…Yes, of course I'll hold." He waited, as the telephone rang a few times before the New Yorker answered sounding as if he had a rather hard night. "'Ello?" The voice asked warily. "Is this Jimmy?" Jason asked pleasantly.

"Yeah, Who else would it be? Who are you and what do you want?" Jimmy asked impatiently, a weird noise in the background sounded like he was pulling up a chair. "This is Jason McGuire." Jason replied rather ruffled from the rudeness. "I was just calling to see if my merchandise is stocked in; But if my business isn't welcome, I suppose-" Jimmy interrupted him, suddenly changing his tune. "Oh! Sorry 'bout that… These kids…they keep callin' me up with these crazy pranks!" He explained quickly. "Uh…Yeah…the shipments…They're finally in."

Thank god. "Oh good!" Jason said quite pleased. Jimmy was still rattling on, "It gets around winter time, y'know how it is…They have to get a fast order on all that Christmas crap..They gotta get the stuff in quickly enough so they can start enticing the idiots- backs up my shipments-- it's easier to get it in though, thankfully. They can't search every box they get in. Are you planning to come around today to get the stuff?" Jimmy asked. "Yes, I am. I need to get out of this town as quickly as possible." Jason explained. "Oh, Are you in trouble?" Jimmy asked. Jason laughed, "No, I'm just exhausted."

Jason was indecisive about whether he should take a train or take a taxi cab to Brooklyn, but the outrageous fare the cab driver was offering to him made the decision for him.

The train rattled on the tracks, the woman on the speaker announcing each stop to the lethargic travelers who swayed with their eyes closed to the motion of the train. Each time it stopped, more people stuffed themselves into the compartment that was getting crowded, many stood, holding onto the top railing before the train rattled on.

Jason got off on his stop, thankful that he would be able to leave soon. His boat was docked in Brooklyn, but he had to stay in Manhattan being that he hadn't made reservations ahead of time. He supposed that he could have stayed on his boat, which perhaps would have been the best thing to do, but after being on it for months, he needed to get off of it and stay on land for a little while. Now though, he'd be happy to get back on his boat as soon as possible.

Jason was walking down the sidewalks again. He was surprised that holes weren't worn through his shoes yet from so much trudging along in the city. He found the Gnarly Road bar squished between a scummy looking diner and a closed down boutique that still had unclothed headless mannequins standing in the store window. Jason grabbed the ornate leafy looking handle that went with the theme as he entered the darkened bar. Jimmy, a middle-aged balding man stood at the empty counter with a wash rag as he cleaned the taps in a vertical striped T-shirt and apron. "Hello!" Jason said merrily as he entered the unoccupied room. "You must be Jimmy? I'm Jason." He reminded the bartender. "Oh yeah, hey." Jimmy replied unenthusiastically. "I'll get your stuff." Jimmy said, going around the counter and heading down the stairs to the storage basement. "Oh, well, I'll just wait here." Jason replied, pointing to the stool.

He waited patiently, drumming his hands on the counter. Jimmy returned, precariously balancing the filled crates before placing them down on the floor with a grunt. "I'll get the rest. I hope you got someone to help you with this stuff." Jason pursed his lips as Jimmy turned to go back down the stairs. "Uh, Jimmy? I suppose I'll have to make a few trips… Do you mind if I take these and come back for the rest?" Jason asked. "No, no. I guess not."

Jason had made two trips to where his boat was docked. His third trip he had to set his crates down and look innocent as several police officers passed- he definitely didn't want THESE boxes searched. He was only four more blocks from the dock when a sudden loud voice made him jump, "HEY!" Jason nearly dropped the heavy crates thinking that the voice was aimed at him, he set them down, ready to run- but when he looked around, He saw that the man was yelling at a young scruffy blonde boy who took off at a great speed, pushing through the crowd. "STOP HIM! POLICE! THIEF!" The speedy boy made his way through the crowd of gawking passer-bys quick as lightning, running like the wind. The man, went chasing after him. Uh oh, they were coming right his way- He didn't want the police hanging around as they certainly would catch the boy as there was heavy traffic coming up where it would be impossible for the kid to escape. He didn't know what made him do it, but Jason grabbed the running boy, pulling him into the alley way. "Hey-!" "Shh!" Jason said, pushing him roughly back behind the trash can. The man ran past accompanied by several police men, unaware that the one they were pursuing was far behind them.

The scruffy looking boy got back to his feet and looked ready to dart off again. Jason held up his hands with a large grin, "Now now, Just wait! Now where are you off to?" The kid just looked at him darkly in reply. "Now, that's no way to look at a guy who has just saved you a month in juvenile, is it?" Jason asked giving the young teen a humorous toothy grin. The young boy shoved past him looking rather angry that Jason was making light of the situation. "I would've gotten away." He murmured haughtily. "Oh ho, would you now?" Jason laughed taking several steps after him. "Now, where are you off to?" The slight boy turned around, brushing his overgrown ashy hair out of his not-so-unattractive face, "Who cares?" The boy answered at last. He wasn't bad looking, but he had a sour look to him rather like he was the huffy sort, easily offended and quick to punch the first guy who said something wrong to him.

"How old are you kid?" Jason asked with an easy smile, gesturing with his large hand. "How old do I look?" The native boy asked. "Twelve? Thirteen?" Jason guessed, the boy scowled at that answer. "I'm fifteen! How old are you? Fifty?" The boy asked with a disrespectful tone. Jason merely laughed, not easily offended by the young punk's immaturity. "No, no! I haven't even reached thirty-five yet! Don't go putting years on this aging Irishman!" The kid turned away. "Losing interest already I see… Hmmm…" Jason mused.

"Well?" Jason said expectantly.

"Well, What?" The boy asked still turned away. "What's your name?"

"I don't tell my name to strangers." The boy snidely answered.

"Well, I'm Jason McGuire! An Irish rouge traveling the seven seas and to the end of the earth!" The boy had to turn around just to give Jason a look that said 'Are you serious?' before he snickered from the serious expression Jason maintained.

"It's your turn! If you don't tell me, I'll have to start calling you the Artful Dodger!" Jason said with a huge Cheshire grin. The boy hesitated before answering, "I hate my name." Jason raised his eyebrows, "Well certainly it'll be better than… Rumpelstiltskin!" The New Yorker boy smirked sarcastically, "It's William Loomis." He answered. "William?!" Jason exclaimed loudly, "Now that doesn't seem to fit you very well at all, and it's not very easy on the tongue either! I can see why you don't like it." The boy gave Jason a rather cynical look, Jason returned him a large smile. "Call me Willie. Everybody does." Jason grinned, "Well that's better! Appropriate even!"

Jason suddenly gave him a stern look, changing the subject to something more serious. "Now, Why are you out pick-pocketing boy? Where are your parents?" Jason pursed his lips disapprovingly, as he looked over Willie's scruffy appearance. "My Ma kicked me out." The boy replied, crossing his arms, getting a rather gloomy expression complete with a pout. "Kicked you out?! An outrage! Why, Where are you staying? Don't you have any relatives?" Jason asked throwing up his hands. Willie turned away, shaking his head, perhaps to hide his face as his hair fell into his eyes. Jason sighed, feeling unexpected sympathy for the boy, after all, it wasn't easy life on the streets- the boy somewhat reminded Jason of himself.

For whatever reason, the boy's snotty attitude was rather amusing to Jason, though he thought that he must be crazy to be offering something like this to someone so rowdy. "Look, Kid…How would you like a job?" Jason asked. "What kind of job?" Willie's morose voice asked. "Have you ever been on a boat before?" The boy shook his head. "Well, If you come with me, you can stay on my ship and we can travel the world together! I'm a trader you see… I could use a helping hand to manage my boat, I can show you the tricks of the trade and you can get off the streets. BUT-" Jason began with a seriousness entering his voice. "If I do take you along, you're gonna have to earn your keep and there's no stealing! I'll give you 20 of the profit I make selling my supplies. I'll pay you eight dollars a week and if you do a good job I might just double it." Willie frowned, he had an odd expression on his face. "Come on kid, Where else are you going to go? You can't make any money thieving on the streets! All that's gonna get you is time in jail. Why don't you take the job? You can start right now and help me get these crates to my boat." Willie considered this for a few moments. "Can you call it something beside from a job?" Willie asked. Jason frowned, confused. "Well, whatever for?" Jason asked bewildered. Willie shrugged, "I swore I'd never work again." Jason laughed, what a strange young boy. He patted Willie on the back. "Sure, kid, sure."

**--**

"Look buddy boy, I think you're making a mistake." Razz said, almost desperately, leaning up against the ally way wall. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Willie had just broken the news to him that he was no longer going to be in the gang. "Well, I guess it's my mistake to make, Razz." Willie replied shortly, sitting down on an empty box that had been discarded. "Well, You must'a gone ape then! What if you don't like sailin'? What if you don't like the old man you're travelin' with?" Razz, was a member of the Eagles, a gang Willie was apart of. He was of medium height, a slim build with dirty-blond hair cut short. He had always been a good friend to him, like a brother. They had even grown up together in the same dingy apartment building. "If I looked at every possible thing that could go wrong, I wouldn't even be able to step out of the front door. Besides, If I don't like sailin' or the company, I can always abandon ship." Willie said. "But Flash, Flash! We need ya! There's gonna be a rumble comin' up, and you're one of the best! You're gonna abandon the Eagles just so you can go off with some ol' creep you just met with a sinker? I thought you were committed!" Willie huffed a laugh, "No, I'm not committed… I'm not in the mental ward yet!" Razz crossed his arms, irritable at Willie's flippant replies.

Razz looked at "Flash" for a better explanation that he was sure he wasn't going to get. Razz knew Willie fairly well- as well as one COULD know Willie- as he wasn't easy to get to know. And he knew that Willie was impulsive and seemed to think that the whole world would be able to read his mind and could just be able to understand his motives. But that was impossible- being that Willie was so manically unpredictable. "Look, I toldja a hundred times already! I just gotta leave!" Willie sighed exasperatedly, looking up at Razz from where he sat. "Can't you understand that?" Willie asked. Razz pushed himself off the wall, "Oh yeah, I understand 'buddy'! You're cuttin' out on us 'cause you think you're too good to be in our company. Well, here's a surprise for you 'Willie'! You leave now, you ain't never got a place in the Eagles. You walk away now, you're walkin' away forever!" Willie stood up, not caring to offer any more explanations. When he made up his mind, he stuck to it. He walked away from Razz, back down the Ally way to the street. "You'll regret it!" Razz hollered after Willie. It was the last time he ever saw Razz.

**--**

"Barnabas?" Willie put down the picture he was holding and looked up to see the silhouette of the vampire standing in the doorway of his darkened room. "What are you doing?" Barnabas didn't answer as he stood stiffly as if he were trying to fight his own willpower. Dogs howled from outside, and immediately, Willie knew what was wrong. So many nights he heard the wolves and dogs howl, knowing that it represented the hunger of his master.

"Come to me." His strong voice demanded.

It wasn't a question. Willie had to comply. Willie found himself standing, his feet carrying him to the vampire even though the small voice in the back of his mind was telling him to run, to get away, to hide. He couldn't though, he had to do his master's bidding. He found himself standing in front of Barnabas, shivering slightly with a fear that clutched at him trying to tell him to go far away, there was no use to try and fight though, what was the point? He wouldn't be able to get away, there was no escape.

Barnabas reached forward, grabbing his arm, ripping his shirt up away from his skin, so that his wrist was exposed. Barnabas began to draw it up to his mouth, his hungry eyes upon his prey like a great predator ready to feast on his meal. _No! _Willie thought desperately. _NO! _He pulled back, trying to get his arm free of the iron grip Barnabas had upon him. "Don't." Barnabas threatened, tightening his grip, his black eyes flashing in the dark much like a cat's. The fear the victim showed seemed only to excite the predator. "Hold still or I _will_ hurt you."

Willie cringed, knowing this was no light threat. A feeling of helplessness and acceptance coming over him. He relaxed completely, complying with his master's orders. This seemed to please Barnabas as he raised his thin wrist to his mouth, his gums drawing back to expose the two sharp fangs ready to pierce into his vein.

Willie closed his eyes, turning away, shuddering, anticipating the pain that he would experience shortly, a pain that he was well accustomed to… For this was his life now.

--


End file.
